


Like a Coin (The Flip Me Over Remix)

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Remix, WIP Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-23
Updated: 2011-02-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:24:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a remix of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6205">Like a Coin</a>, and I was writing them at the same time but at some point stopped working on this. It's John's side of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Coin (The Flip Me Over Remix)

The sky wheels above his head, an endless blue. He can make out the shapes of birds, high up and circling, and one wispy cloud near the horizon. Sometimes he thinks if he just stares for long enough he can get lost in that expanse, up high. He wonders what he’ll find there. Clouds, or aliens, or weird kinds of birds, or —

His momma’s footsteps approach. He knows them well, the way she always walks when he’s out here just laying on his back. She creeps up like she doesn’t want to disturb him. She’s the best thing about home, and today she smells like fresh apple pie.

“Do you think the birds look down at us and wonder what we’re doing, all these little dots on the ground?” he asks, when she’s close enough.

He can hear her smiling as she says, “Inside, it’s almost time for dinner.” He gets up, the world tipping back so the sky is on top, and follows her back into the house.

John Sheppard is six years old, and all he wants to do is fly.

=^=

“John? _John_.” Somebody snaps their fingers in front of his eyes, blocking his view of the window, and John turns around.

“Sorry, what?” he blinks.

“Nice of you to come back to us,” Ms Dresdon narrows her eyes at him, and he tries to look contrite.

“Sorry, Ms Dresdon,” he hangs his head.

She purses her lips. “Hm. As I was saying, can anybody tell me…” He tunes her voice out again; he hates history class, and the sky is _right there_ outside.

He goes home with a report card and watches his dad’s face darken as he reads it. “What is the meaning of this?” he asks, a thundercloud readying its load for dropping right on John’s head.

“I — I got an A in math,” he points helpfully.

“And a _D_ in history,” his dad supplies. John hasn’t quite given up hope that he’ll see the A any minute and be proud. John’s worked _hard_ for that A.

“It’s um, it’s not an F?” he tries, pointing again to the A. Most of the rest are Bs, a couple A-s. It’s pretty good, he didn’t get a single F this time.

His mom snatches the report card out of his dad’s hands and says, “Oh honey, this is good!” She sighs and adds, “Patrick, you’re supposed to encourage him. He did well.”

John thinks his mom is the bravest person in the world for saying that. He nods, hopeful.

“David got straight As this semester,” his dad says, meaning in every syllable. “Son, I know you can do better than this. I’m just disappointed.”

John takes his report card from his mom’s hand, swallows as he nods, and goes to his room. He hears his mom saying, “For Christ’s sake, Patrick, he’s only _twelve_ , when will you —” and then he shuts his door and can’t hear any more.

He’s lying face down on the covers, eyes closed, flying through the wide open sky when he hears the door open. “I’m not here,” he says, eyes still shut. “I’m at forty thousand feet and about to do a loop the loop.”

The bed dips. “Honey,” his mom says, “your father’s right about one thing. You’re a bright boy, you can do better than a D.”

He opens his eyes. “I got an _A_ ,” he reminds her, almost desperate.

She reaches over and hugs him. “And I am so proud,” she whispers. The knot in his chest unwinds.

“Thanks, Mom.” He sits up and hugs her properly. “Did David really get all As?”

“Yes.” She pets one hand through his hair.

“I don’t think I can do that,” he admits, half into her blouse.

“I think you can,” she replies. “In fact, I _know_ you can.”

He looks up at her. “How?”

She smiles. “Because you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. And you want to fly, don’t you?” He nods. “Well, you need good grades to be a pilot.”

John nods again. “I could do that.”

She kisses the top of his head. “Just think of the sky. This is your way to get there.”

He smiles at her. “Okay, Mom. I’ll go to the sky.”

=^=

John is fifteen when the girl he asked to the dance kisses him in front of everybody, and he doesn’t like it nearly as much as when he’s wrestling with his friends, or just goofing off rolling around throwing punches. Some of his friends are nerds, and they don’t really go for the physical stuff, but every now and then he goads them into it. The thing is, he kind of likes nerds. Ever since he discovered the wonders of jerking off, he mostly thinks about guys in the movies he wants to be (Steve McQueen, a lot of the time) and the nerds he knows (not that he will _ever_ tell them in his _whole life_ because they like girls and John knows what happens to boys who admit they like other boys) and the few times he’s tried thinking about girls it’s a sure-fire boner killer. On the social hierarchy he’s a geek, so it’s not like he’d have been getting much action if he _did_ like girls. He’s told he has a quirky charm, though standing in front of a mirror the only word that comes to mind is _gangly_. But girls are weird and who is he to argue?

He loses his virginity at sixteen, to a sweet girl named Megan he’s been dating for seven months, and she never needs to know he thinks of Daniel Abbots when he comes. He’s pretty good at coming without saying any names, so he can think of whoever he’d rather be having sex with and still not get killed for being a fag. And he really does like Megan, she’s _awesome_ and gorgeous and if he swung that way he would have fallen in love with her for real. As it is, he falls in a sort of love with her; he never lies, when he tells her he thinks she’s the best thing since skateboards. Her smile makes him feel like the lights are dimmer, and Dave keeps saying he’s a total dope over her. John thinks maybe you can be in love with someone without being turned on by them, and that’s what he is with Megan, and he’s pretty happy about that.

A week after John’s seventeenth birthday, Daniel Abbots takes him to a club where they need fake IDs (but Daniel’s cousin knows where to get them, so it’s no problem) and the place is full of glitter and men in eyeliner and lipstick. John watches a woman in a sparkly dress dance, only to see when she turns around that it’s really a _guy_ in a dress, and a jolt goes down his spine.

Daniel’s grinning at him. “This place is great, isn’t it?” he leans over to shout in John’s ear. John feels his breath tickle the skin and has to swallow.

“Yeah, it’s amazing,” he shouts back, and Daniel shoots him this smile, grabs his hand, and leads him out onto the dance floor. John’s world cracks right down the middle, his throat feels dry, his hands go clammy, and he thinks of the way Megan’s hair looks when she tucks it behind her ear. Then Daniel pulls him in and starts dancing, and John is already so turned on the palms of his hands are humming with it.

Breathless, he dances with Daniel, and after a few songs have gone by, someone knocks into John’s back, sending him tumbling into Daniel’s chest; Daniel’s arms go around him, and John’s kissing him before he can think. Daniel kisses back, and John presses up so _close_ and shakes. The kiss isn’t like anything he’s ever _had_ before; it’s hungry and desperate and leaves him frantic, he needs — something, he doesn’t even _know_ , he just needs it _now_.

He jumps when he feels Daniel’s hand flick the button on his jeans. Daniel smiles and leans in to suck at the skin of John’s neck as he undoes the zip and gets his hand inside John’s pants; all he does is wrap it around John’s cock in his underpants and John comes, shuddering. It’s somehow a little more intense than any orgasm he’s had before, but at the same time, exactly like every other.

“That was hot,” Daniel says into his ear, in the brief relative quiet between songs. “Now it’s my turn.”

John jerks him off through his underpants, right there on the dance floor of a gay club, and feels simultaneously like his world is ending and he’s just come home.

=^=

He comes out to his mom when he and Airman Martin Draper have been seeing each other for a year. Martin graduated a couple years before, they met the year John finished at the Academy, and they’re very good at keeping the whole thing secret. John wants him to come over for Thanksgiving, though, since Martin says his family don’t much care if he comes home so he never does. John’s mom gets tears in her eyes but she just shakes her head and says, “I always wondered when you’d tell me.”

“You _knew_?” John thinks he’s never been obvious about it.

“The way you talk about him, and — just a few things, before. Mother’s intuition, maybe.” She smiles at him, a wide and beautiful beam. “You love him, don’t you?”

John does, he really does, and he nods. “Yes Mom,” and his voice comes out slightly husky.

She bites her lip a little and pulls him into a hug. “My boy’s all grown up,” sniffing slightly, and John has to laugh.

“You make it sound like it’s the end of the world,” he jokes, hugging her all the same.

“Don’t be silly, it’s wonderful.” She breaks the hug, looking him in the eye. “Is he coming for Thanksgiving?”

“That’s uh, that’s actually what I wanted to ask you.”

“He’s welcome, of course. I’d like to meet him.” She brushes invisible lint off John’s shoulders, tears still glistening in her eyes, threatening to spill.

“Thanks, Mom, you’re the best. And um — don’t tell Dad?”

“I think he’s going to notice another person at the table,” she says, but he can tell she got it.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes.” She looks away. “I do. I won’t tell him, I promise. I’ll just say he’s a friend.”

“Thanks Mom.” He kisses her cheek. He’ll call Martin and invite him over and everything will be fine, just fine.

Dave suspects, John is almost sure of it, but Martin’s pretty good at faking when he has to, so John lets him do a lot of the talking. They made up a fiancée for him and Martin does a really great job of talking about her like he really does want to marry the girl. He sneaks into John’s room that night after everyone’s asleep, and curls into his side, nuzzling along his jaw.

“You were pretty convincing about Jenna,” John observes.

Martin looks him in the eye and says, “I was thinking about you when I said all those things,” and John’s heart melts. It actually feels like that, something in his chest just turning to mush. He’d be embarrassed about it if he weren’t too busy in the sensation.

He kisses Martin, tasting turkey and wine and traces of the peanuts he’d eaten on the way here. “Really?” he breathes.

“Really. I’d marry you if I could,” Martin whispers, and John feels like he’s fizzing.

Years later, after the Gulf, after John’s lost everything but his career, his dad asks, “Son, have you ever thought about getting married?” It’s not a lie to say no; he assumes only legal marriage was meant.

Nancy’s a nice girl. Really, she is. John just … doesn’t even make an effort. His work takes enough of the edge off everything that he can pretend. It’s not enough for her, so it’s really not a surprise when she leaves. He only feels a slight regret; she really is, after all, a fantastic woman.

=^=

John meets Dr Rodney McKay right after he decides he’s a whole new person; new continent, second chance with his career, and all he needs are six-month summers where the sky is a constant blue like back home, warm clothing, and plenty of choppers to fly. McMurdo is exactly what he wants, exactly what he _needs_ , and he’s pretty much done with everything that happened before. He doesn’t have his eye on anybody, but he doesn’t really feel like having his eye on anybody just yet.

And then there is a Canadian scientist in a violently orange sweater, telling him to think of the solar system and after that everything gets so weird and so fast that he doesn’t look until after they’re in Atlantis, after he’s rescued as many of his people as he can, after the Wraith, after Sumner — it takes at least a week for the nightmares to fade out, but he knows how to deal with it. He lives with it. It starts getting easier when McKay hauls him out of assigning quarters to everyone to test some Ancient shield; John shoots him in the leg, the bullet bounces off and embeds itself in the wall opposite, and McKay says, “Throw me off a balcony next!”

John hasn’t seen such raw enthusiasm since Martin. It’s far enough away now that the thought doesn’t even sting, just makes him bounce a little as he follows him out to the balcony in the gate room.

He starts noticing McKay. The man is hard to miss; he complains all the time, when he isn’t alight with scientific discovery. John swings by the labs sometimes when he’s bored, just to see that look on McKay’s face, because _that_ is when he’s attracted to him. It doesn’t take long to realise that he’s actually kind of attracted when McKay looks despondent, and impatient, and maybe he’s just attracted to McKay. He has a very nice mouth, and John likes watching him work with his hands (when it’s not a life-or-death situation, that is; he’s not thinking about McKay’s hands then, except in the sense of _if we have five minutes left to live I’d kind of like to screw him before I die_ but it’s really better that McKay works and they _don’t_ die) and okay, fine, John is attracted to him. It’s not the first time he’s had a thing for a nerd, and their discussions (read: heated arguments) about sci-fi movies is a throwback to every teenage crush John has ever had. He asks, once, in the middle of a discussion of which movie to watch next week, “Anyone bring Velvet Goldmine?” He watches several people’s eyebrows go up; McKay’s have climbed right into his hair. John smirks. “I’ve always liked the seventies.”

“What is … Velvet Goldmine?” Teyla asks, looking at each of their faces.

“It’s a movie about some glam rockers, they wear glitter and play guitars,” John explains.

“Yes, and it’s about as gay as you can get,” McKay supplies. “I’m surprised you’ve seen it.”

“Who _hasn’t_ seen it?” John challenges.

“Well, I have not,” Teyla says. John’s still looking at McKay, who is still sort of blinking at him.

“I’ll ask around. See if anyone has it.” McKay clears his throat and then gets back into his stride, “And if nobody does, we can watch Dune.”  



End file.
